Split
by Tucker's Mayflower
Summary: It's obvious Isaac doesn't have the most stable upbringing. But is it the shattered personality of a boy with a tragic past that's been causing these outlashes? Or something...darker at work?
1. Prologue

_Hello, my little dungeon-rats! Ooh, how I missed you, my darling little Isaac board! Are we ready for a brand-new adventure? :D I did this story back during my Wrath of the Lamb binge over the summer, and now I think it's time to unleash it to the world. You guys know how it goes, let's find a trapdoor as our mother kicks in the door and plummet down into the unknown depths below!_

**Obtained Item: Disclaimers!  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 0: Prologue**

Dr. Mattias Bossi never considered himself a miracle worker. He was a psychiatrist, a man who dedicated his life to helping others deal with their problems. He was not a magician, but a scholar, studying how the mind works and passing his knowledge onto others. He was a man of science, not a man of God. The mind was an internal labyrinth of memories, traumas, and experiences, but when the patient was on his couch, he was a master cartographer.

Still, their town was small, and also heavily-religious - most people ran to Father David with their problems before wasting their time on him. He was a man of experience and wisdom, but that did not make him a busy man.

In this case, however, his services were almost a necessity. Father David was the town's original choice, but he could only care for the child for so long before growing concerned for his mental health. God was not the answer, so science and psychology needed to step in. Trauma, especially one this severe, cannot be prayed away; it must be dealt with.

And so, Father David approached Dr. Bossi about his adopted son, Isaac. He was scheduled to arrive for his first consultation in fifteen minutes, which brought the scholar of psychology to this moment - overviewing all of the notes and paperwork that Father David had brought in for him to review.

The Peterson tragedy was one he remembered fondly, despite being nearly a decade ago. Abraham and Bethany Peterson were good people, although he had never met them in person. They volunteered at the church frequently and had a beautiful house on the top of Eden Hill, where they housed a dog, two cats, and a baby boy named Isaac.

Abraham disappeared when Isaac was eight years old: to this day, he hadn't been found. Bethany was clearly in mourning. She only left the house to attend church with Isaac, and neighbors say she wasted away in front of the television, watching Christian broadcasts all day. Without her husband, she had only God to turn to.

Tragedy struck in the night, and a neighbor called the police when she walked up Eden Hill to borrow some ingredients for a dessert. She found the Peterson pets torn to shreds in the front yard - all three were beheaded, and cat Guppy was also missing its tail and paws. Police investigated, finding Bethany Peterson dead at the age of thirty-one. The autopsy gave head trauma as the cause of death, as she had a large crack in the back of her skull. (Photos of the crime-scene also reveal a fallen shelf and a bloodied Bible. She was also holding a knife, likely as self-defense against the attacker.)

The son, Isaac, was found in the basement - cold, bloodied, naked, and alone. After intense questioning from the police, it became clear he didn't see the murder, or at least couldn't tell the police who did it. (The report notes that Isaac's only coherent answer was "God did it." The rest of his answers were panicked and nonsensical, at least as far as Dr. Bossi was concerned. Claims of sins and whatnot was better left to Father David, and Isaac's claims that she was trying to kill him were likely just fright and confusion.)

With Bethany dead and still no sign of Abraham, Isaac was now an orphan. Unable to track down any next-of-kin, the town unanimously decided that Isaac should be placed in the care of Father David. Since Abraham and Bethany were so devout to the church, it seemed the place where Isaac would be most comfortable.

The next part of the package was more-recent news - the notes he had taken during his conversation with Father David the other day, as well as things the pastor brought from his home. Isaac had adjusted well, at least as far as the town was concerned. He was a quiet boy who rarely got into trouble, other than the typical teenage rebellion. He did well in school, particularly in his English classes. He was an avid reader and a blossoming artist; Father David mentioned Isaac's aspirations to attend an art university and become an illustrator.

However, Isaac always had a dark side, ever since the first day he was welcomed into the pastor's home. To this day, he suffered from horrific night terrors, fighting through monsters in the basement where he was found, forever haunted by "demons". Father David warned him of a history of "mood swings" - most days, he is calm and quiet Isaac, but other days, he can be an entirely different person. Almost a dead giveaway that Isaac had developed some sort of multiple personality disorder to cope with the trauma of the Eden Hill tragedy.

Father David became concerned when he found a few of Isaac's sketchbooks, and brought them for Mattias to investigate. Although beautifully-done - Isaac had developed incredible skill with a pencil - the pictures were frighteningly-dark. Most depicted demons, all black with piercing eyes, crying tears of blood. Several had been mutilated, with wire coat hangers through their skulls and halves of their faces burned away and plenty more disturbances like them. There were mentions of the sins, of the Four Horsemen, of God, of Satan. There were pictures of fallen angels, trapped in skull cages or shining cathedrals.

Dr. Bossi found it wasn't uncommon for patients to cling to outlets where they could express their turmoil in private ways, without the judgement of others. These sketchbooks were Isaac's diary of sorts - all he had to do was figure out what it all meant.

_Bzzt! "Doctor, Isaac Peterson is here. Should I send him in?"_

Time flies when you're admiring artwork. "Yes, please, Abby."

A few minutes later, and Isaac timidly entered the room. He had grown significantly in the nine years that had passed since the doctor last saw him, which was on the news after the accident. Now a young man of seventeen, Isaac stood quite a bit taller (although still on the smaller side for his age, and not helped by his slouch and shrugged shoulders), but still retained the round face he had as a child. His head had been shaved when he was little, whereas now he had a thick, curly mop of brunette hair - brown like his father, wavy like his mother, as Mattias saw in the pictures. Isaac also inherited his mother's big, brown eyes, which seemed widened and tired at the same time, like someone who found themselves too scared to sleep. He was dressed in dark colors, nearly disappearing in his loose jeans and oversized black hoodie, which had his hands hiding in the front pocket.

Dr. Bossi gave Isaac a gentle smile, motioning to his miracle couch, the red-velvet lounge where the sickly became sane so many times before him. "Welcome, Isaac. It's nice to finally see you in person. Why don't you have a seat, and we'll get started?"

* * *

_I've got a plate of cookies for all of you smart enough to figure out who Dr. Bossi is. ;) Anyway, next chapter, the exciting stuff happens! Whoo! Don't want to miss it? Tune in next time! :D Thanks for reading, guys! _

_______**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_


	2. Raising Cain

_Blah-blah, something about a train! Yeah, update Saturday is taking place on a train. So I apologize for the lack of wit - sleep deprivation does that to people. XD_

**Obtained Item: Christmas Vacation! ...I mean disclaimers!  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Raising Cain**

_Case Study: Isaac Peterson, Day 2_

_I spent the first day getting to know Isaac, trying to avoid mention of the tragedy on Eden Hill. I need his trust before I can get to the root of his trauma. Much of the conversation was basic. He re-emphasized his love of art and his dreams of illustrating, and mentioned an interest of playing card games. (I pretended not to hear the part where he plays poker with his friends on Friday nights.) _

_We continued this conversation when he came in today. Shortly after, I discovered that Isaac can't see out of his left eye. He says it went fuzzy when he was a child, and revealed an eyepatch that he wears to focus his vision - usually when he's drawing or playing cards with the boys. He's never mentioned this vision problem to Father David because it doesn't bother him. "Cain's used to it," he tells me. Finally, I've found one of those multiple personalities that I suspected._

_After assuring Isaac that Father David won't be relayed this information (it seems Isaac's quite afraid of the pastor discovering his MPS), I ask Isaac to tell me the story of when his eye went fuzzy. My guess is that whatever event caused his vision loss also sparked the personality he named 'Cain.'_

_Well, let's just say I certainly wasn't expecting the story I was told..._

xxx

Isaac hated school. Not that he disliked schoolwork, mind you - he wasn't the best with his times-tables, but he loved to read and learn. Science fascinated him, especially learning about animals, and he loved to draw pictures for the books that they read in English.

No, Isaac hated school because of the kids in his class. For one reason or another, Isaac wasn't well-liked. The girls avoided him, as young girls avoid all boys who are infested with cooties, and the boys decided that his frailty made him the perfect punching bag. He often came home in tears, having taken one too many dodgeballs to the face or boys pantsing him on the playground.

This time, those bullies had gone too far, and Bethany Peterson was FURIOUS. She had spent an hour on the phone with each of their mothers, in a rage at the state of her little six-year-old. Isaac had come home, missing three teeth and sporting a blackened left eye, which he quickly blamed on not having lunch money for the bullies to take. Abraham, who was known for his athleticism as a child, frowned upon his son's weakness and his wife's overreaction. "Come on, Beth, put a patch on his eye and stick some gold in his mouth - he'll be fine. Put down the phone, Isaac has to learn to deal with bullies the old-fashioned way, or he's never going to man up!"

Once his tears had dried, Isaac took his ice-pack into his bedroom. He discarded the melty mess, wincing as he rubbed the bruises around his eye, trying to warm them and restore feeling to his face. He stumbled slightly as he made his way to the mirror - for some reason, everything was fuzzy and he couldn't see straight. (It wasn't the first blow to the face he had taken, though, so Isaac was more than used to the cognitive disruption.) It was enough that he could see the disarray of his face, though. Most of his teeth were babies on the verge of falling out anyway, but the purple splotches that covered the left side of his face would be there for ages.

Recalling his father's words, Isaac reached into his toy chest, where he kept costume pieces for his games of make-believe. Trapped down at the bottom was his pirate costume from last Halloween, so he dug for the pieces and came up with a black faux-leather eyepatch. Fumbling with the knot (Isaac had only recently learned how to tie shoes), he put the black patch over his wounded eye, then approached the mirror again. Like his father predicted, the eyepatch did the trick. It covered a majority of the damage, as well as helped to straighten Isaac's vision: everything was cocked slightly to the right, but at least it was clear again.

Isaac tsked as he looked at his shirt, picking at the dried bloodstains that ran down the front of it. He was a MESS. Maybe his father was right; he couldn't grow up and let this keep happening. But how was he supposed to beat up those three big bullies by himself?

The answer came as Isaac continued to look at his reflection, watching the one-eyed child staring back at him.

Isaac may have hated school, but he was most certainly smarter than those bullies.

xxx

That Friday night, Isaac snuck away from his house and headed down the hill to where the boys lived. They shared a small cul-de-sac at the end of Eden Road, and frequently stayed over at the same house on the weekends. It wasn't difficult to pinpoint which of the house held the bullies - their bedroom window was open and they were playing a loud shooter game, shouting childish profanities as the enemy took cheap shots at their avatars.

Isaac pulled himself up to the windowsill, knocking on the wooden frame to get their attention. "Hey, guys."

The boys paused their game and looked up. Strange enough that little Isaac Peterson from the playground was at their house at this unusual hour; on top of that, there was something else different that the third-graders couldn't put their fingers on. He was dressed in all black, as opposed to his usual wear of bright colors, and had a bag slung over his shoulder. He also had an eyepatch over his eye, which was probably still swollen and bruised from their attack earlier in the week.

"Peterson, what're you doin' here?" one of them asked. "Ain' it pas' widdle Isaac's bed-time?"

Isaac motioned to the outdoors behind him. "Wanna go play a game?"

The second of the boys scoffed loudly. "Why would we play with you?"

Isaac didn't answer, instead waving a fan of bills in front of his face. "Weren't you guys looking for this?" Suddenly seduced with arcade money, the boys were now listening. "Come on out and play with me. If you win, it's all yours."

"And if we lose?"

"Then you can punch in my other eye and take it."

The boys snickered. It sounded like a win-win situation. "Alright, Peterson, you're on!"

xxx

Isaac led them out to the surrounding woods, where he had set three stacks of leaves to serve as makeshift chairs for his players. The eye-patched game master sat on the grass, setting up his game while the boys took their seats.

"These leaf-chairs suck, Peterson," one of the bullies spat, fussing to get comfortable.

Isaac shrugged, juggling a jacks ball between his hand and a red SOLO cup. "Don't be such a baby."

It was quite easy to notice the difference between the Isaac before them and the first-grader they were so accustomed to picking on, but the boys weren't sure how to approach it, so they tried to ignore it and win their prize.

"The game is easy," Isaac explained, setting up three of his red cups and tossing the ball up and down as he explained. "I put the ball under a cup and mix them up. You find the ball, you win a dollar. You don't find the ball, I keep the dollar. When the stack's gone, game's over."

"Peterson, you're such a baby," one of the bullies scoffed. "This game's so easy."

"Then you'll win, stop cryin' about it." Isaac slipped the ball under the center cup and began scrambling. Once finished, he motioned to the boys, nodding for them to take their first guess.

It seemed obvious. Isaac had swapped the two on the side several times, but hadn't touched the center cup. "Dude, how old do you think we are?" the leader of the trio scoffed, flipping the center cup.

It was empty.

"Apparently, not old enough," Isaac snickered, revealing the ball under the left cup. He pulled a dollar from the stack, then shuffled the cups again.

He repeated the same shuffle - ball enters the center cup, left and right get shuffled multiple times. "Oh, yeah, we're not falling for that trick again!" another of the boys laughed, flipping the left cup.

It was empty.

"Yep, not falling for that trick ever," Isaac yawned sarcastically, revealing the ball in the center cup.

This went on for a few more rounds. Despite their best efforts to keep up, the boys kept missing the mark. Finally, after their fifth straight loss, the leader smashed the cups aside. "Alright, Peterson, you're cheating!"

"No, you're just not paying attention," Isaac shrugged.

"Well, I think you said that if we kept losing, we could just take what's ours! So I think it's time to b-"

The center bully jumped forward, only to freeze before he even reached Isaac. There was a fishing line amongst the grass, separating the boys from their eyepatched foe, which had just been pulled. As it tugged, the boys heard a sickening _SNAP! _from right behind them.

The leader turned around, leg suddenly convulsing in pain, to find his left foot had been chopped off by a finely-rigged pair of garden shears.

Isaac smirked. "Now didn't your moms teach you not to be greedy?"

The two boys who could still run bolted, leaving their crippled leader to crawl after them. Isaac brushed away his leaf-traps, finding the detached foot sitting in a puddle of its own blood.

_It's kind of like a lucky rabbit's foot, right? Just not from a rabbit._

xxx

_**ADDENDUM: **__Isaac's troubles seem to be as deep-rooted as childhood bullying. However, he also shows signs of false memory. It seems he embellishes stories with grotesque detail, though whether it's faulty memory or odd compulsion that forces this is unknown._

_I fear that I may never get to the bottom of Isaac's labyrinth._

* * *

_Blah, blah, drama! Blah, blah plot! Blah, blah next time on _Split! _Blah, blah, thanks for reading!_

_________**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_


	3. Sweet Mary Magdalene

_Hello, guardians of Middle Earth! Lady Mayflower of Rivendell has arrived to cordially invite you to-wait, no, wrong fandom. Sorry, hobbits are things._

_You know what else are things? Children trapped in basements trying to escape the deluded wrath of their overly-religious mothers! :D #totallyasegue So, uh, who's ready to go onto Chapter 3? I totally am. So let's get to it!  
_

**Obtained Item: Christmas Vacation! ...I mean disclaimers!  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Sweet, Sweet Magdelene**

_Case Study: Isaac Peterson, Day 5_

_Isaac is extremely uncomfortable when I mention girls. His mother is an entirely-different case that I've tried not to touch on, but girls in general seem to make Isaac squirm. For example, when I asked him if he had been in any relationships, there was a split second where he looked disgusted at the thought._

_I try not to make such intimate assumptions of my patients, but Isaac seems to have a strange history of gender confusion. While discussing his childhood over the past few sessions, Isaac has revealed to me that he was a pageant boy. Not a boy who would compete against the girls, but a child crossdresser. He blushed heavily as he told the stories of his mother putting him in a curly blonde wig and putting him into pageants._

_Embarrassing, yes. Likely the source of his childhood bullying, yes. "But Maggy loves dressing up for the crowd." Aha._

_But back to today's session. I told you that story to tell you this one. See, when I asked Isaac of his past girlfriends, he told me there had been only one - a young girl he attended school with, right before the tragedy struck..._

xxx

Mary Shiloh was an angel. She had a pretty face, despite her crooked smile of baby teeth that refused to fall, and long, pin-straight brunette hair. She also had big, blue eyes that were always full of sparkle and life. And she was a sweetheart. Like most of the homes in the town, the Shiloh household was devoutly religious. Mary never swore or raised her voice, and always sat with her legs crossed and hands folded like a lady.

Isaac adored her, even beyond being the only friend he really had. Every day, he would bring her flowers and pictures, whatever he could manage to win her young affections. She came over every Wednesday after school to play with the animals, then walked with Isaac and his mother to the evening service. He would listen to his mother and hers gossip on the phone, joking about the day they would sit together in the church and watch their babies walk down the aisle.

One Wednesday, though, Mary was sick from school, so Isaac headed home alone. Bethany thought this would be the perfect opportunity to fix Isaac's dress, which got a bit torn when he fell down the stairs at their last pageant.

So there they were, Isaac up on a stepstool in his bright red heels and curly blonde wig, and Bethany pinning and tucking away at the ruffled pink sheath he was wearing. "Are you done yet?" Isaac whined for the hundredth time, blowing another faux curl out of his face. "I wanna go play!"

"Almost, sweetie, now quit squirming," Bethany tsked, putting the last few pins in place. Before she could finish, though, a few yowls and barks from outside stopped her. "Oh, for goodness sake!" With a frustrated sigh, she got up and headed outside. "Tammy! Guppy! You two leave that dog alone, you hear me?!"

Isaac continued to fidget with his dress. He didn't mind it normally, but with all of the pins it currently held, it was quite uncomfortable. Not to mention, it was hot with his wig on.

On top of that, there was always a sense of...embarrassment? Shame? Confusion? Whatever it was, Isaac's stomach always got queasy as he donned his Magdalene costume. (Maggy was his pageant name.) His father despised his mother's pageant dreams, always yelling at Isaac to be a boy and do more boy-things. What WERE boy-things, anyway? Playing with those mean bullies and being hit in the face with dodgeballs? No thanks.

For the most part, though, this was Isaac's secret. Nobody but his pets and parents knew.

"Uhm...excuse me?"

Until today.

Isaac couldn't bear to turn around. Why here? Why now? "I'm looking for Isaac. Are...you his sister?"

With a nervous breath, Isaac turned to face the little Shiloh girl he was always trying so hard to impress. "Uhm...h-hi, Mary. W-What're you doin' here?"

xxx

Isaac ran straight to his room after the evening service. He hadn't said a word all night, just sat with puffy eyes and watched as Mary ran straight to her mother, immediately divulging what she had seen. "Mommy, I don't want to go play with Isaac anymore."

And that was it. Mary ran off with her other friends, and Isaac would never see her again.

Other friends. Mary had them, of course. Isaac never knew the luxury.

Once back in the safety of his bedroom, Isaac shut and locked the door, then crashed onto his bed and sobbed. Guppy hopped up onto the headboard, giving a soft mewl to console her favorite owner, but Isaac shooed her away. He didn't need comforting; he needed Mary back.

Sadness turning to rage, Isaac got up and grabbed the blasted blonde wig, the curse that had spoiled his chance at happiness. "Stupid wig! Now Mary thinks I'm a girl, and now she's never gonna like me!"

Isaac put on the bouncing curls, tearfully glaring at his reflection. "Maybe I should just be a girl," he pouted. "Least the girls would stop thinkin' I'm such a weirdo."

But that wouldn't solve the problem at all, would it? No, Isaac most definitely had to remain a boy.

And Mary Shiloh had to learn a lesson.

xxx

Mary Shiloh was very meticulous with her bedtime routine. She had to brush her hair until it was perfectly straight, then brush her teeth for precisely ninety seconds. She poured herself a glass of water, then curled up in her bed and waited for her mother to wind up her music box and kiss her good night.

Tonight was different. When she returned to her bedroom with a glass of water, the music box was already playing. Blue eyes narrowed at the sour thought of someone spoiling her routine, Mary put down her water, then closely examined her nightstand. The music box continued to churn the same tinny tune she was so accustomed to, ever since she received the present from her last birthday.

"Hmm. That's weird. Who wound up my music box?"

Mary seized with a cry of pain as a shooting pain stabbed through her back. She couldn't bring herself to look down, but could feel the blood staining her Sleeping Beauty nightgown without having to see it. She couldn't bring herself to do anything, really. She was paralyzed, whether it was because of the knife in her back or the fear of dying.

Her blue eyes went wide when a blonde-haired Isaac stepped in front of her, tapping his bright red heels as he pulled the knife from her back.

"I thought we were friends, Mary."

The soft sounds of blade through flesh were hidden under the tingle of Mary's music box, so Isaac was free to carve away at her chest until her bloody, faltering heart was exposed. So the temporarily-blonde tore out the failing organ, taking a bite out of it as he climbed out the window and started the trek back up to his home.

"Guess I'll have to take back that heart I gave you."

xxx

_**ADDENDUM: **__Once again, Isaac is mis-remembering events and embellishing them with gruesome details. Note to check on the status of Mary Shiloh to discover what REALLY happened that night, if anything happened at all._

_Isaac is much more delicate than I had originally thought. I must proceed my investigation with caution._

* * *

_Thanks again for reading, guys! Hope you all are enjoying it! :)  
_

___________**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_


	4. Judas Betrayed

_Hello, my little dungeon-rats! Welcome back! ...Wait, what? Me? Late? No, you're imagining things. It's totally Saturday. I was not flaking out on you guys to hang out with real-life people in my real life. Totally._

_Subject change. LET'S GET ON WITH THE CHAPTER. :D  
_

**Obtained Item: Disclaimers!  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Judas Betrayed**

_Case Study: Isaac Peterson, Day 9_

_It was a touchy question, and in retrospect, I never should've asked it. This is a house of science, and I should leave theology to Father David. But I felt compelled to ask. I'm not sure if the red hat Isaac chose to wore today had anything to do with it - I hadn't seen it before today. A fez, I believe it is. Odd that he would come across such a cultural fashion statement out here._

_Anyway, I made the mistake of asking Isaac about religion. There was a bit of clamor following the tragedy that says Bethany may have been delusional and misrepresenting God, so I was curious to see if this - and his current upbringing with Father David - had any effect on Isaac's stability. After all, those sketches of fallen angels must come from somewhere, right?_

_Isaac confesses. He's unsure what to think, but feels he can't tell Father David the story. (If I were in Isaac's shoes, I'd feel the same pressure.) When I ask him to tell me "the story", I receive yet another strange response that I wasn't quite expecting..._

xxx

Isaac spent most - if not all - of his time to himself following the death of his mother. It was hard to determine why - mourning? Fright? Nerves? But whatever the reason, Father David took it upon himself to be the most open and warm foster father he could be to the orphan.

A few years later, when Isaac finally struck his teens, the Father found him alone in the church one night, sitting in the moonlight that flooded through the stained glass, covering his shy face with glimmers of silver light.

"Isaac, it's late," Father David scolded lightly. "What are you doing here?"

Isaac paid no mind to his foster parent. His mind seemed elsewhere, his eyes barely focused on the crucifix that hung high above the altar.

"Does God hate me?"

Being a lifelong man of the church, Father David was near-horrified at Isaac's remark, especially after having the child under his roof for so many years, and part of his flock for even longer. "No, Isaac, of course not!" The Father approached the window, kneeling by Isaac's side. "Why ever would you think that, son?"

Isaac shrugged. If he could avoid using words, he would every time.

"God loves all of his children, Isaac, and you are no different."

"Then why did Mom go crazy and die?"

The pastor bit his lip. Even to this day, he hadn't found the proper way to talk to Isaac when it came to Bethany's death. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, Isaac." It was the best answer he had.

Father David ran his fingers through Isaac's slowly-growing hair. Why Bethany shaved the boy's head so often, he'd never know, but the faintest signs of curly brunette were beginning to return to him. "I'm sure you're worried over nothing, Isaac. Why don't you come home and get into bed, and I'm sure you'll be better in the morning."

Isaac settled into his sweatshirt with a shrug. He always had a habit of curling up into his oversized clothes, but Father David just assumed it had something to do with whatever landed Isaac alone and naked in the basement. If buying clothes a size bigger made Isaac more comfortable, so be it. "I'll be up in a few minutes," he agreed quietly.

Their home was a small trailer behind the church, so Father David permitted Isaac a few more minutes to himself. "I'll leave the front light on for you," he nodded, getting up and walking out.

Isaac listened for the door creaking closed behind him. Why was it so difficult to ask Father David what he REALLY wanted to know? 'Father David, Mom was after me with a knife and said that God wanted me dead because I'm a sinner. Am I the anti-Christ?'

...Right. Because he sounded like a nutcase.

"I'm not a sinner," Isaac said to himself, watching the stained-glass patterns on the floor. It was a mantra he needed to hear almost every day. It was why he spent so much time in the church late at night, sitting in the light of the stained-glass windows. He hadn't done anything wrong, he just had a crazy mother who snapped and got what she deserved for pulling a knife on her son.

_Define sinner._

Isaac jumped, more from the moonlight going dark than the hissing voice. With no stained-glass to admire on the floor, he got up and moved to the window, which had suddenly become several shades of black and red. "What do you mean?"

_We both know you're not exactly Father David's little angel, Isaac. You know what happened that night._

Isaac turned from the window, covering his ears. "Nonono, I don't want to get into it!"

But he couldn't leave, and with a bit of spectral force, Isaac found himself spun towards the mirror-like window once more. Its darkened glass reflected Isaac's form, but his pale face and dark eyes were poisoned, appearing as a shadowy black monster with piercing red eyes in its reflection.

_You can't ignore it, Isaac. Your mother may be dead, but YOU'RE still here. Living with the pastor doesn't make you a saint, Isaac, and it doesn't change what you did._

"What else was I supposed to do?"

_You cursed God's name and tried to ruin his plans._

"Yeah, but he wanted to kill me!"

_You slaughtered HUNDREDS of creatures through self-mutilation and black magic._

"I didn't want to get eaten!"

_You traded pieces of your soul with the Devil to make yourself more powerful._

"I..." Isaac jumped to defend himself, but couldn't. THAT one, he couldn't deny. It was a moment of weakness. He needed help, and the Devil gave it to him. "...I know."

_See? And now you're even lying to yourself about it. Fess up, Isaac, you're covered in more sin than your mother could even fathom._

"Yeah, but I'm done now!" Isaac assured, trying to escape the voice in the blackened window once more. "It's over, and I'm not going back! I'm never doing any of that stuff-"

Black shadows rose from the floor, stopping Isaac as they melded into an altar stand. Except instead of the Bible, this stand held a different book. One that was gray and had a black upside-down star on its cover. _Oh, are you?_

Isaac froze, his heart racing and his eyes wide. "No..."

_What's the matter, Isaac? Don't remember your old friend?_

He did everything in his power not to. It was his secret weapon against Mom. The devilish statue had dangled it in front of his face, promising that its dark secrets could save him from her divine wrath. It cost him a good bit of blood, but the power it brought him was unmatched.

_Libiatrum Diabolus. _The Book of Belial.

Isaac struggled to step away from the enclosing shadows, all of which pressured him closer and closer to the altar holding the dark tome. "No...No, I'm done with that book! I'm not picking it up again!"

_But you're tempted, Isaac...And temptation is your ultimate weakness. You WANT this book, don't you?_

"No, I don't! I just want it - and YOU - to leave me alone!"

_Oh, but what about those bullies in school, Isaac? Aren't there so many people who live to make you miserable? Wouldn't you like to make them pay?_

Isaac could feel the stinging on his cheek where he got socked by one of the older boys the other day. It had been that way most of his life, and wasn't getting better now that he was living with the town pastor. Isaac was quiet and calm, but only because he had no means of defending himself.

Fighting his mother gave him that first true taste of victory, of being BETTER than someone.

And by God, he missed it.

Before he realized what he had done, the book was back in his hands - right where it belonged. Its pages were still worn as ever, with the intricate black writing in a dark language he could barely understand. The familiar warmth of hellfire and cooling darkness filled the aisle, surrounding Isaac with the choking blackness that he grew to embrace in his basement.

Fear. Panic. Terror. Power. Triumph.

_CREEEEEAAAK! _The church shook as the door swung open once more, snapping Isaac back to reality. He had only moments to hide his book, and barely had the Satanic Bible hidden from view when Father David looked up.

"Isaac, are you coming?"

"Uh...Y-Yep, on my way!"

And Father David never seemed to notice the gray-covered addition to Isaac's personal library.

xxx

_**ADDENDUM: **__Looking back, I remember what triggered this conversation. This session took place on a Wednesday, and Isaac mentioned that he would be attending church services afterwards. His soured attitude caused my questioning of his faith._

_He also had an unusually-large stack of books in his bag. I noticed a gray one peeking out from the pile, but only as he went to leave. I consider alerting Father David to Isaac's dabble in Satanism, but decide against it, at least until I have a better grasp of the situation._

_I'll also need to keep a closer eye on the news, and look back to see if there have been any strange incidents concerning some of Isaac's enemies in the town._

* * *

_This one's kind of my favorite chapter. Hope you guys liked reading it as much as I did writing it! Thanks for reading, guys! See you next time!  
_

_____________**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_


	5. Babylon

_Shoot, almost forgot to post again. SATURDAY, I WILL CONQUER YOU ONE OF THESE DAYS. *shakes fist* So, uh, yeah. I don't want to spoil the chapter for you guys, but I got stuff to say, so I'll just see you at the end of the chapter, okay? :D_

**Obtained Item: Disclaimers!  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Babylon**

_Case Study: Isaac Peterson, Day 16_

_It seems that every time I try to AVOID mentioning the night on Eden Hill, I find something more horrifying in Isaac's psyche to take its place. Today, we discussed his bullying problem, and Isaac looked panicked when he let slip that he's been raped by those bullies that give him so much trouble in school. If he didn't have the excuse of insanity in the way, we could put those boys in jail for the things they've done._

_Before I can dive into the story, though, Isaac assures me that it was no big deal. How a rape can be considered "no big deal," I'll never know, but I needed to hear Isaac's story. As Isaac told, it wasn't the rape that caused the problems._

_It was the part that came afterwards._

xxx

The second Isaac could move, he ran back to the church in a fit of tears. He couldn't go home, not in his state. Father David would have a fit. So the only safe place he could hide was the church, lying in the moonlit glow of the stained glass windows.

Isaac didn't particularly enjoy playing basketball, but he did it to keep Father David happy. "You need more extracurriculars, Isaac! It isn't good, hiding in your room and drawing all day! You need to get out and make some friends! Be active!"

So it was basketball or drama club. And Isaac had too many people picking on him WITHOUT drama club.

Isaac wasn't very tall, nor was he very fast. He was clumsy and shy, not to mention had the horrible habit of screaming every time the ref would blow his whistle. Ever since he moved in with Father David, loud noises made him jump out of his skin.

So Isaac didn't PLAY basketball. Isaac wore the uniform and WATCHED basketball. He was a damn good water-boy and a great statistician, but for the most part, he was a seat-warmer. Not that he minded, of course - he'd much rather sit and enjoy the game than be expected to participate.

So the boys on the team decided that Isaac could participate in ANOTHER way. In the showers afterwards, to be precise.

And now here he was, crying on the floor of his adopted father's church. He had never felt so violated, so afraid, so _alone. _...Well, he had, but Eden Hill was a long, long time ago.

Funny how things never leave you alone.

_My, my, doesn't this scene seem familiar..._

"Go away."

_Don't say things you don't mean, Isaac. It gets you into too much trouble._

"I don't want your help."

_You'd rather lie here crying all night? Go back to school tomorrow like nothing happened? Let those rats keep fuckin' with you for the rest of the season?_

"Well, what am I supposed to-?" Isaac shot up to continue his internal conflict, but froze when he saw the sudden change of location. His beloved stained glass windows were gone. Instead, the walls were black and covered in imprints of skulls and bones.

But instead of the onyx goat statue he had become accustomed to during the rush for his life under Eden Hill, the center of the room was occupied by a shadowy figure. Bald and featureless, with the exception of glowing red eyes and a pair of crooked, spiraling horns.

It just sat there, surprisingly silent for once. It was waiting for Isaac to make the first move.

Isaac swore he'd never do it again. He still hadn't lived down picking up the Book of Belial all of those years ago. But the old book had clearly lost his potency.

And looking into those bloody-red eyes that followed him in every passing reflection, he knew the shadows were thinking the same exact thing: _You need something else._

"...I don't want to sell my soul again." He had nearly died when he sold out for the Book of Belial. Granted, he was much older now and could probably take the strain much better, but the agony of that first mistake still sat in his chest. Could he put himself through that again? WOULD he put himself through that again?

_Oh, but you're fine and dandy with being picked on and attacked? Letting those boys run all over you?_

"N-No, but-"

_But nothing. What's the point of living if you're going to waste your life like this?_

Isaac sighed. The fact that he HAD a devilish voice in his head never bothered him. The fact that it was usually right did.

"Alright, so what's your idea?"

The faintest of smiles appeared on the faceless shadow. _You're a smart kid, Isaac. Glutton for punishment, but smart._

Isaac tried to argue, but stopped with a cry when a tendril of shadow grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to the ground. The darkness overtook him, burning into his back and making him feel sick. He wanted to cry out, but knew it was useless - in the darkness, nobody could hear him scream.

_Don't worry, Isaac. Next time those bullies are giving you a hard time? Next time I catch them beating on you?_

_I'll make sure to give them hell._

xxx

Nobody seemed to pay any mind to Isaac, as usual. Life went on. His hair was a bit flatter and a bit darker (it almost looked black in the wrong light), and his eyes seemed a bit duller, but it wasn't enough to be noticable.

Isaac's oversized layers helped to cover the black and red moon and star that was now pressed onto his back.

So the next week came around, and with a new week brings another home-court game for the St. Rebecca's Rams. Isaac kept a tense hand on his scoreboard, a shiver running up his spine every time the boys came onto the sidelines and shot him scary, dirty looks.

The game ended, and Isaac was barely three steps into the locker room before the boys were on top of him. Isaac fought much less this time. Last time, he screamed as loud as he could until a ball of socks found their way into his mouth, and tried to kick and squirm as much as the boys' grips would allow. This time, his uniform was torn away almost effortlessly, and he bit his tongue to keep quiet and avoid the ball-and-gag he received last time. The boys grabbed and pulled and smacked Isaac right into the shower, with mean laughs and sloppy cat-calls of "hey, hold still, you whore!"

The second blood was spilt, the flickering lights of the locker room went dark. "'Ey, yo, who shut off the lights?"

"I did."

The sounds of screams and the squelches of torn flesh shook through the cold locker room, disguised somewhat by the rush of water from the shower faucets. When the lights came up, Isaac was dragged off into the shadows, while the shadowy figure looked over the dead and bloodied bodies with its glaring red eyes.

_Tsk-tsk. Me, a whore? More like the Whore of Babylon._

xxx

_**ADDENDUM: **__I'm keeping record of Isaac's stories, but for the most part, I'm dismissing them as fantasy. However, one alarming fact has been brought to light - this mysterious shadow that haunts the back of Isaac's mind, the voices that tempt him into darkness. What I originally assumed to be Multiple Personality Disorder may actually be quite a bit more severe. I'll have to do a bit more research and see what else it could be._

* * *

_Okay, so this was an uncomfortable chapter. Eve's an uncomfortable character, alright? XD Blah-blah, everyone be adult about this and don't flood my inbox with your offense, 'cause I'm very anti-PC and don't want to hear it.__ Next chapter, we go back to things everyone's okay with, senseless violence and blasphemy. XD  
_

_Thanks for reading, guys! :) 'Til next time!  
_

_________**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_


	6. Taste of Blood

_Hello, my little dungeon-rats! Oh, man, the next-to-last chapter's here already! Where does the time go? ...Who, me? Stalling 'cause I don't have anything interesting to say? Never. So, uhm...Chapter, anyone? :D_**  
**

**Obtained Item: Disclaimers!  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Taste of Blood**

_Case Study: Isaac Peterson, Day 21_

_I've been trying to build up a portfolio of notes concerning Isaac's multiple personalities. It seems all of them have names: Cain, Magdalene, Judas, and Eve. Isaac's shaky history with Christianity is evident. Not only are his stories and drawings inspired by Biblical stories, but even his personalities pull from these infamous characters._

_I note this because I discovered the fifth member of Isaac's personalities today: Samson. The old Bible story of Samson and Delilah didn't come to mind until Isaac mentioned that before coming to me, his hair was actually getting quite long. He had just gotten it cut before our first session, which I can only imagine resulted from the most recent story I've heard..._

xxx

"Isaac, when are you going to cut your hair?"

Isaac picked at his wavy locks when Father David brought them up. All teens go through a rebellious phase at one point or another, and Isaac had hit his right before his seventeenth birthday. His current trend was growing out the hair that had eluded him most of his childhood; currently, it fell past his shoulders and needed to be tied away from his face with a red bandana. As you can imagine, it's not a look that one expects from the adopted son of a pastor.

Not that Isaac could be bothered to care, really. "When I feel like it."

Father David sighed. He was a teenage boy once, of course, but Isaac's rebellion seemed to be slipping further and further into something much more serious. As anyone left to care for an orphaned child with a troubled past, he was concerned greater forces were at work than Isaac's hormones.

So the breakfast table seemed like a better place than any to spill the news. "Isaac, I've been talking to Mattias lately."

"The town shrink?"

"...Yes. I'm worried about you, Isaac, and I should've taken you in for counseling earlier. I think it'll be good for you to get any sort of worries or stress off your back and-"

_SLAM. _Father David winced as he heard the door slam shut behind Isaac on his way off to school. He had a feeling Isaac wouldn't take the news well, but this just seemed to be a sign that it was the right thing to do. With a sigh, the pastor grabbed his phone and made a call to the psychiatrist to schedule a consultation.

xxx

Isaac wasn't particularly moody, at least not more than your typical teenager. He was known for being quiet his entire life; never speaking out of turn, never raising his voice, and never looking for fights. Father David loved to brag about how Isaac was always the picture of patience and kindness, especially in the face of bullying.

Anger didn't suit him. And yet, he had been falling back on it more and more frequently. Little things suddenly seemed more aggravating, like when his lock refused to open on the first try and made him late for math class. Isaac was holing up in the art room more and more, even to the point where he was shunning the very few friends he had.

Said friends came to Isaac's aid after watching him throw a fit at the books that just avalanched out of his locker. "Yo, Isaac, you okay?"

"I'm fine," the brunette spat, tossing his books into the most haphazard pile imaginable before attempting to shove them back onto his locker shelf.

"You sure? You look a little...strung-out."

Isaac cursed as his books toppled yet again. "I'm not strung out!"

"Dude, chill out! Why are you yellin' at everyone all of the time?"

"I'm not!" Isaac slammed his locker shut, cringing as he heard all of his books crash to the floor inside it. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

The boys couldn't come up with a response, so one of Isaac's bullies stepped in, putting Isaac in a light choke-hold from behind. "'Cause normally, you're such a puss, Peterson! Now shut yer yap 'fore we gotta call animal control to get a muzzle on that scrawny mouth of yours."

With a growl, Isaac stamped down on the bully's foot, forcing him loose just long enough for Isaac to tackle him into the lockers. Once the bully was on the ground, he let loose in a blind rage, kicking and punching and cursing, letting loose all of his rage and tension. This bully had been running the halls of St. Rebecca for far too long, and this was the day he pushed Isaac just a bit too far.

"ISAAC PETERSON!"

It took two teachers to wrestle the troubled orphan away, letting the bloodied bully scamper off with a whimper. Isaac tried his hardest to squirm free, still not done punching something to high heaven. "Hey, come on, lemme go!"

"Isaac Peterson, I would've NEVER expected this from you! To the office, go!"

xxx

If it were any other student, they'd be suspended on the spot. But Isaac wasn't just another student. He was one of St. Rebecca's best and brightest. He was quiet and non-confrontational. He was also an orphan with a troubled past. You can probably guess which part got brought up first when the teacher dragged him to the principal.

So Isaac was brought in to see the counselor instead. "Isaac, my word. What's gotten into you? Screaming in the halls, late to class, beating up another student?"

Isaac stayed quiet, continuing to pick at his hair.

The old counselor sighed. He couldn't bring himself to be so hard on a child who had already been through so much. And on a first offense? "Let me call Father David in, and we'll discuss what we need to do."

"What's there to discuss?" the teacher snapped. An old and grizzled instructor that was twenty years of tenure too late to be replaced, he had broken up plenty of fights and expected punishment when they started. "Suspend the kid."

Already in a sour mood, Isaac didn't take kindly to being pushed. "How about you shut up?" Isaac snapped, hopping to his feet and crashing his chair into the wall behind the angry teacher.

"Isaac! Calm down! What's gotten into you?!"

"NOTHING'S GOTTEN INTO ME! I'M FINE!" With a snarl, Isaac grabbed a pair of scissors from the counselor's desk, climbing over it and pinning the old counselor to the wall, an arm to his neck and the scissors inches from his head. "And I swear to GOD, if you try to say otherwise again, I'll..."

Before he could finish the threat, Isaac faltered. Between the glint of the scissors and the terror in his counselor's eyes, he spied one thing:

The reflection of a shadowy, red-eyed figure.

_What's the matter, Isaac? Finish the job._

Horrified at what he had done, Isaac dropped the weapon and ran outside, cowering outside the doors of the academy until Father David came to retrieve him.

"Isaac? What happened?"

"I...think I need to see the doctor after all."

xxx

_**ADDENDUM: **__At this point, I'm frightened for Isaac's mental stability. This dark voice, the one that comes without a name, seems to be violent and dangerous. After today's session, I've prescribed Isaac with Haloperidol - 1.0 mg every six hours should do it, but I'll adjust the dosage as needed. Hopefully, the anti-psychotics will quiet that voice and calm him down._

_With any luck, he'll be more coherent in the coming days and I can get to the bottom of this mess._

* * *

_DRA~MA! Will Isaac come clean about his inner demons to the doctor? Will Dr. Bossi get to the bottom of this mess? Do we have the items necessary to clear the Chest? Or even enough keys to open the four freebies? ...Okay, so a few of those won't be addressed. But for the rest of them, tune in next week for our chilling conclusion! Thanks for reading, guys!_

_________**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_


	7. XXX

_W__ho's ready for a plot twist? :D Too bad, last chapter, not getting one. _

_OH GOD NOT THE TOMATOES WHY WAI-  
_

**Obtained Item: Final Chapter! ...I mean final disclaimers?  
**The Binding of Isaac, including all related characters (c) Edmund McMillen, because he's awesome.  
Original story of 'the binding of Isaac' (c) Genesis 22, not that it applies.

* * *

**Chapter 6: XXX**

_Case Study: Isaac Peterson, Day 28_

Dr. Bossi hadn't gotten any further than his label when a fervent knock came to his door. Strange - his secretary should've informed him of a visitor, and Isaac wasn't due for another fifteen minutes. "Come in!"

It was Isaac, alright. He dragged in a golden-brown toybox, then stumbled over to the doctor's desk. "I'm sorry, doc, b-but I have to get out of town."

"Isaac, what are you talking about?"

"I-I...I can't explain, I just...they're after me, I have to get out of here and-"

"Isaac, calm down. Have you been taking your medicine?"

Isaac nodded, running a shivering hand through his curls. "Y-Yeah, but...but you don't understand! T-There's this...I-I don't even know how to EXPLAIN it, but..."

"Look, Isaac - take a deep breath, calm down, and just take it one sentence at a time."

"I killed my mom."

Mattias froze, taking a few seconds too long to process what he had heard. Unable to hold still, Isaac just continued his panic. "Okay, _I _didn't kill her, not EXACTLY. I-It was God, I swear! He sent down an angel and what was I supposed to do? She was going to stab me! I mean, what did I do? I didn't do anything wrong, not until that happened, anyway..."

He reached into his bag and grabbed the gray book, the one with the upside-down star on its cover, then pitched it to the side. "I'm so sick of this! All of this! I just want to take it all back and be normal again!"

"Isaac, please! Just calm down, you're being hysterical!"

Isaac dropped onto the couch, curled up like it was the first day all over again. "I had a horrible nightmare last night, doc. T-There was this...this cathedral, and there were screaming angels and stained-glass...but the glass had, like, crying faces and white crosses and..."

Isaac wiped his face of nervous tears. "I saw myself in that church; little eight-year-old me. He was bald and naked and crying and I didn't know what to do! What COULD I do? He was so sad and miserable and I just wanted to end it!"

The orphan sobbed. "I killed him. I killed ME. A-And then there was this toybox, this DAMN toybox...!"

Before Mattias could get in a single word, Isaac hopped to his feet and ran out. "I have to go, doc! I have to go back, back into the basement, back into the womb! I have to go back and end this before it ever gets a chance to start!"

_SLAM. _And that was it. Isaac Peterson was gone.

Curious, Mattias got up and approached the wooden chest. It was a beautiful toybox, hand-crafted and detailed with a fine shade of gold.

He opened it, then immediately dropped the lid in horror.

The toybox contained the strangled blue corpse of a eight-year-old boy.

xxx

_It is now that I slowly begin to reevaluate all of the stories that I've recorded thus far:_

_- There is no cul-de-sac on Eden Road. The road ends at the pathway that leads to Isaac's house on the hill._

_- There are no records of Mary Shiloh, or anybody Isaac's age living in the house at the bottom of the hill. This house was owned by Victoria Merlot, the young woman who was responsible for calling the police the night of the tragedy._

_- Isaac's school doesn't have a basketball team. The funding for basketball equipment and expenses were cut in 1996 due to lack of interest._

_- St. Rebecca's Academy is a Christian private school. There IS no guidance counselor, only Father David._

_And when I approach Father David the next day, asking what had happened to Isaac, he gave me the look I can only assume all of my patients have seen. A look of confusion, pity, and most of all, horror._

_There was no murder. Bethany Peterson is alive; perhaps not well, being treated for a case of extreme depression, but alive. The tragedy on Eden Hill involved another. A boy who was grounded to his room, thanks to his mother suffering from a manic-depressive fit. A boy who feared her emotions and took refuge in a toybox to save his life from her misplaced upset. A toybox that locked itself shut and ended his life.  
_

_Isaac Peterson has been dead for nine years._

* * *

_...  
_

_Yeah, bet none of you saw that coming, huh? Aha, I'm so crafty. Anyway, I had lots of fun writing this, even though it was part of the Wrath of the Lamb binge from a million years ago, so I hope you guys enjoyed reading it just as much. :) Thanks again to everyone who's been following the story and leaving reviews! You guys are the best!  
_

_Now, time to burrow into a hole and take a nap. Not much to do 'til Rebirth comes out, am I right? XD  
_

_________**§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §**_

_PS: For anyone who's looking for those cookies I promised in the first chapter, Mattias Bossi is the narrator of the "In the Beginning..." opening cutscene. :) But all of you little die-hard dungeon-rats knew that, right?  
_


End file.
